this october and this desk. what do you say to the world when you get what you've wanted? i mean who do i thank for this.
there's a loophole in the coupon system at fry's, so for the past month we've been able to get free bacon that we didn't even need. we only started doing it because it was funny -- beer and meat. walking out into the parking lot is like looking for the getaway car. she says "i can't believe this. it's like getting [familiar items (these vary)] for free. or like getting two [familiar items] for [half of their typical cost]" and i listen to the math like it's news on the stock exchange because my head doesn't do numbers, not like hers does, and every number seems important from here.
i still walk around in old clothes and armor sometimes, because it's there, right? you can put it on in your sleep and sometimes you actually do, without realizing it. but then i look in the mirror -- i mean she smiles when she wakes up -- and this coat is too scratchy now. and now i can take it off.
i mean most of the time i never even put it on but when i do i always remember
that now i can take it off.
last october, and the one before that, and my boat.
i boxed things away without realizing. i'm glad. it's interesting what the brain does while everything else marches forward. one minute you're naming license plates and the next minute you're home. and now you're inside because it's late and everyone's tired and tomorrow's a brand new thing you haven't met yet so let's sleep. we'll get the bags in the morning let's just sleep now.
new places don't ever feel like home until you leave them and come back. i mean i needed you to go i think. no, i mean i needed to go. we're back now though (right?). i mean i thought i heard your key in the lock.